


Klaine Advent 2020

by lilinas



Series: Expectation Fails [25]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Chastity Device, Dom Kurt, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sub Blaine Anderson, You guys know the drill!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilinas/pseuds/lilinas
Summary: Another installment in the Expectation Fails 'verse!
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Series: Expectation Fails [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/24832
Comments: 146
Kudos: 149





	1. Abashed

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I am aware I've still not finished last year's Klaine Advent. I hope to make that happen soon! But for now I'm plunging back in for this year. As usual, we're in the Expectation Fails 'verse and these babies could occur at any point in Kurt and Blaine's relationship. Hopefully I'll get all the way through this year! ;)

Kurt was in the middle of a strategy meeting when his phone buzzed. He almost didn’t bother to look. They were way behind on planning for the fall line and the last thing he needed was to be distracted. But then it buzzed again and he glanced down to see two texts from Blaine.

_Caesura._

_I’m sorry._

Everyone’s attention was on Paolo. Kurt slipped his phone under the table and typed surreptitiously.

_Blaine?_

No answer.

_Blaine honey? Are you okay?_

Nothing.

Panic swept through Kurt’s body. Blaine always texted back. Blaine would never, ever do something like text a safeword then go silent.

Kurt gave his phone a little shake but it remained quiet.

He offered his cab driver a fifty percent tip if he could make the 20-minute trip in ten. The cabbie rose to the challenge as only a New York cabbie could. By the time they screeched up in front of his building Kurt’s stomach was in even bigger knots. He ignored the lumbering elevator and sprinted up four flights. The adrenaline coursing through his body carried him like he ran up eighty steps every day. The struggle to make his fingers work the key felt longer than his entire trip home.

“Blaine! Blaine where are you?” he shouted as he flung the door open.

“Wha . . . Kurt? You didn’t have to come home.”

Blaine sat on the couch, a cup of coffee in his hand, poring over sheet music spread out on the coffee table.

Kurt slammed the door behind him, angry, suddenly, at finding what he’d been praying – through the world’s most dangerous cab ride – he would find. “What the fuck, Blaine?”

“What?” Blaine asked. He was trying for innocent, that was clear, but the high pitched tension in his voice only fueled the alarm bells in Kurt’s head.

“What?! Blaine you texted me a safeword! Then ignored me! I almost died like three times in the cab over here!”

“You took a cab?”

“Yes I took a . . .” Kurt broke off as a flush crept up Blaine’s face and his mouth twisted in a way that Kurt only ever saw when Blaine was deeply and profoundly . . . embarrassed. Kurt dropped his bag and crossed his arms, pinning Blaine with an icy stare. “What did you do?”

Blaine put down his coffee and scrubbed at his face like he was trying to wipe away the telltale blush.

“Blaine . . .”

“Okay, don’t laugh.”

“I guarantee you laughing is the last thing I’ll be doing.”

“I had an itch?” Blaine winced as he said it.

“What?!”

Blaine sighed, dropped his hands from his face and finally focused directly on Kurt. “I had an itch,” he said again, gesturing helpfully at his crotch. “Right where the cage meets the ball ring? It was making me crazy.”

“You texted me a safeword because you had an _itch_?”

“No, god, no Kurt I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then what happened?”

Blaine made the wincey face again. “Well, I thought maybe I could find something to use to get under the ring. I remembered when Cooper broke his leg when he thirteen he used a stretched-out wire coat hanger to scratch under his cast. _Then_ I remembered that I hadn’t take the hangers from the dry cleaners back to the dry cleaners so I –”

“I get the picture. Can we cut to the safewording?”

“It got stuck.”

“Excuse me?”

Blaine flushed again and hung his head. “I don’t know how it happened. I managed to scratch the spot, but then when I tried to pull out the hanger it somehow got stuck between the cage and the ring and . . . I tried everything I could think of and I couldn’t get it out.” He looked up, pleading. “I really tried. But only way I could get it off was to take off the cage. So I texted you and then I used the emergency key. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Kurt sighed. He wasn’t ready to laugh, not yet anyhow, but Blaine looked so upset and he was so contrite and you had to admit it was . . . then Kurt remembered. “But why didn’t you text me back? All you had to do was tell me. I had no idea what happened to you. You know where my brain goes.”

Blaine groaned. “Okay, so, you know, a coat hanger is long. When you stretch it out? And I was in the bathroom trying to get it out and I texted you then put my phone on the sink but I guess when I turned to come out and get the key the long end . . . I mean, the hanger was sticking out of my dick basically. I think it pushed the phone. When I came back with the key my phone was in the toilet. So . . . I couldn’t text you back. Also I’m going to need a new phone.”

Kurt could only stare, at a complete loss for how to react.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine moaned.

The tone of his voice finally motivated Kurt. He rushed to the couch and pulled Blaine into his arms. “Oh honey. Don’t apologize. It could happen to . . . well, no, that could pretty much only happen to you – or maybe Sam – but still, it was an accident. You couldn’t really . . . well . . . “

He tried. He really did. But after all the fear and the death-defying cab ride, the image of Blaine bumbling around the bathroom with a coat hanger stuck to his cage swinging in his wake . . .

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” Blaine complained, flushing red once again.

Kurt was suddenly aware, through the laughter, of his aching lungs, burning legs, and the definite beginnings of a splitting headache. “Take the win, Sweetie,” he said. “Take the win.”


	2. Brake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one tonight . . .

“Wait, stop Kurt, please. Please stop.”

Kurt didn’t want to stop. He was three, maybe four thrusts from what was promising to be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sliding shallow, not quite fucking Blaine, but not quite stopping either.

“Nothing. This is perfect.”

“So why am I stopping?”

“Please, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, and he pressed a hand to Kurt’s chest, holding him gently.

Blaine’s hand, his small voice, his soft, pleasure-filled eyes, finally worked their way through to Kurt’s higher brain. “What’s going on?” he ask, as gently as Blaine had spoken.

“Are you about to come?”

“I think that should be obvious.”

Blaine smiled. “I just want to hold on to this. Just for a minute. Feel it. Is that okay?”

Kurt was frozen mid-thrust, all his weight on his arms, his balls tight with imminent release. “Sure, sweetie,” he said. “Just. . .”

“I know,” Blaine said, giving Kurt the most angelic smile. “I just . . . you know.”

Kurt knew. By now he expected it. At least one in ten times they had sex Blaine asked for this. Because it was all so new and sometimes, Blaine had told him, he felt like he must be dreaming. The kind of dreams he’d had before they met; dreams he’d wake from crying. Dreams that would leave him struggling with the despair that had been his constant companion. Sometimes Blaine just needed to stop and breathe and know that it was real. Kurt was real.

Fortunately for Kurt’s arms, the moment never lasted very long.

“You’re about to come,” Blaine said, “inside me.”

“If you’re ready.”

“I’m always ready. Go.”


	3. Careless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: if you're going to abuse italics and ellipses, fucking own it. ;)

“Kurt! How could you be so careless?”

“Calm down, Blaine. This isn’t a tragedy.”

Blaine gasped. “I _came._ Without permission!”

“Yes, honey,” Kurt said, trying to be soothing. “I was there.”

“And I _told_ you I was too close. _Three times!_ But you were too busy with your _phone_ . . .” Blaine turned a glare toward the offending object, sitting innocently on the nightstand.

“Which was wrong of me, I get that,” Kurt said. “But you know there’s only three days until the wedding. And I’m the Best Person slash Dress Designer.”

Blaine glowered at Kurt. “I didn’t know the Best Person was supposed to be the bride’s literal slave.”

“Best Person slash Dress Designer,” Kurt corrected him. “And maybe they’re not for normal people, but this is Rachel Berry we’re taking about. She’s the Bridezilla that all other Bridezilla’s aspire to be. Believe me, Blaine. My life – and by association your life – will be a lot easier if I just give in and let her own me body and soul. Until Saturday. Then she’ll be off to Fiji and we won’t hear a peep from her for at least two full weeks.”

Blaine’s expression slowly downgraded from scowling to pouting. Progress, at least, Kurt thought. “I don’t care how much she owns you. When we’re . . .” Blaine gestured at the bed he sat on, “doing things and when I’m . . .”

“All I did was glance at a text. I didn’t answer her!”

“You glanced while you were edging me, Kurt! And you didn’t hear me tell you I was too close and you didn’t stop and I . . . it was just wrong. That’s all there is to it!”

Kurt took Blaine’s hands in his and squeezed them tight. “Blaine. Honey. You had an orgasm. It’s not the end of the world. You were literally lying there begging me to let you come.”

“To _let_ me!” Blaine insisted. “It’s no good if I don’t have your permission. You know that. It didn’t even feel good. You might as well have ruined it.”

“It certainly sounded like it felt good,” Kurt teased.

Too soon. Blaine about-faced right back to scowling. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“No,” Kurt said, switching just as quickly to sincere contrition. “You’re right, baby. You’re absolutely right. It shouldn’t have happened. When we’re having sex you deserve my full attention.”

“That’s all I’m saying,” Blaine sniffed.

“And I didn’t give that to you, which was wrong. I’m very sorry. How can I fix it?”

Blaine sniffed again. But he was softening. Kurt could see it. “I don’t know. It’s not like I can un-orgasm.”

“I could punish you for it.”

“How would that be fair?!”

“You could punish me for it,” Kurt said.

“Please. As if that’s ever going to happen,” Blaine groused, but the corners of his lips twitched in an upward direction.

“I could . . . tie you down and edge you until you’re begging me again, then, oh, I don’t know, maybe give your cock a nice whipping instead? We do have that new mini-quirt we won at Sean and Nathan’s Better Bondage party. It looks like it’s got a wicked sting.”

Blaine’s mouth twisted and he looked up at Kurt through his long eyelashes. “I mean, I guess that might help. But what about Rachel?"

“I’ll shut off my phone and I won't turn it back on until you're nothing but a quivering mass of desperate pain and need. I promise.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide and he flung himself into Kurt’s arms. “I love you!” he breathed against Kurt’s neck.

Kurt smiled and pressed a kiss into Blaine’s curls. “Just remember that two hours from now.”

Blaine pulled back so Kurt could see him roll his eyes. “As if I could forget.”

“I don’t know. That quirt looks like it could make you forget your own name.”

“Just don’t make me come again and I’ll be fine.”

Kurt gave Blaine his best supervillain leer. “Oh, you can count on that, sweetie. You can count on that.”


	4. Dispensable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tweaked the prompt a tiny bit. I'm sure no one will mind. :)

“What’s it like, having a submissive as amazing as me?” Blaine asked, plopping on the couch and cuddling into Kurt’s side.

Kurt paused Project Runway with a sigh. “Are you back on this again?”

“’ _Best orgasm of my life.’_ You said it, Kurt. You felt like it was never going to end. That’s what you said. I’m just that good.”

Blaine reached for a handful of popcorn but Kurt blocked him and flipped them in a brilliant karate move that landed Blaine on his back with Kurt on top of him. “Don’t get cocky,” he said with mock severity. “You can be replaced, you know.”

“As if,” Blaine scoffed. “Who could you ever get to replace me?”

“Well someone tall for starters.”

“Tall?”

Kurt nodded. “At least six feet. Tall and hunky. Definitely.”

“So you want a sub who’s two inches taller than you. Five inches when you string him up from the ceiling on his tiptoes.”

“And blonde of course,” Kurt teased. “I’ve always been into big blonde men.”

Blaine nodded. “Right. The dumb jock type is right up your alley. In fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking when you were coming your brains out in my mouth. If only I was a giant muscle-bound Swede. Then maybe Kurt would be turned on right now.”

Kurt gasped. “Such sass! I could spank you for that kind of back talk.”

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “You could,” he said when they parted, “and I would love it. And when you were done I’d fall on my knees and suck your dick again, and you’d look down at my tear-stained face and my burning red ass and come even harder than you did this morning. Deny it if you can.”

Kurt couldn’t deny it.

“I will admit that possibility,” he said, climbing off Blaine and settling back to watch his show.

“Which means?” Blaine prompted.

“Fine. You’re indispensable.”

Blaine sat up as well, and helped himself to a handful of popcorn, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Yes I am.”


	5. Event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well . . . it's an event for Blaine! :)

“Oh god, Kurt. Oh my god that’s amazing.”

Kurt smiled at Blaine, who was stretched out naked on their bed, holding himself in a spread-eagle that Kurt hadn’t demanded. His eyes were closed and his fingers and toes were the only things that moved, flexing as Kurt worked his well-lubed cock in long, slow strokes.

“Good,” Kurt said. “I want it to be amazing. Tell me how long it’s been, baby.”

Blaine moaned as Kurt thumbed over the head of his cock and down along his frenulum. “Forty-five days,” he gasped.

“That’s right. A month and a half. How does it feel to set a new record?”

“Amazing, god, it’s amazing.”

“Are you ready to finally come?”

Blaine opened his eyes and fixed a fuzzy, distant gaze on Kurt. “So fucking ready,” he said fervently.

“And do you deserve to come?” Kurt asked.

To Kurt’s surprise, Blaine’s eyes filled with tears. “I do. I really do deserve it.”

“Yes you do,” Kurt affirmed. “How does it feel to know that you’re about to have the orgasm you worked so hard to earn?”

“Oh! I’m close!” Blaine cried sharply.

Kurt stopped stroking and rested a calming hand on Blaine’s belly. “Soon, baby. But tell me how it feels – to know you’ve exceeded every one of your master’s expectations. To hear that I can’t wait to give you this orgasm because you’ve endured and obeyed so perfectly. Tell me Blaine.”

“Mmmmm,” Blaine breathed as Kurt took up his cock again and stroked it oh-so-slowly. “It’s so good, Master. It’s all I want. I just want to deserve you.” A tear spilled out and down Blaine’s cheek. Kurt caught it on his finger then cupped Blaine’s cheek.

“Oh, sweetie. You always deserve me. You don’t have to do anything for that. But you earned this.”

He twisted his wrist, stroked faster, and Blaine closed his eyes and stretched even wider on the bed. “I’m close. Oh my god, I can’t . . .”

“It’s okay baby. Take your reward. Come for me. Come as hard as you can.”

Blaine went rigid, his neck twisted, pressing his cheek into Kurt’s hand, and his mouth fell open on a silent cry as his body convulsed in long-awaited release. With whimpers and gasps he pumped into Kurt’s fist and Kurt worked him gently just to the edge of too much, then simply held his cock in loose fingers, cradling it as Blaine’s body twitched through the aftershocks.

Eventually, Blaine opened his eyes again. This time his gaze was languid and sleepy but more present than it had been before. He lifted his head enough to gaze down at his own torso, covered with the spurts and globs of his release.

“Wow,” he said, “I am so fucking obedient.”

Kurt laughed, then leaned in to give Blaine a gentle kiss. “Always and forever.”


	6. Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist. No, I'm still not over it. I probably never will be. ;)

“It’s so beautiful! Isn’t it gorgeous Kurt?” Blaine asked as they climbed out of the car.

Kurt was too busy looking at the ground, watching every step of his favorite Italian leather dress shoes, to know exactly what Blaine was referring too. But he had a good idea. “If you’re planning a hoe-down, I suppose,” he said. “Why couldn’t Bruce and Lars have had their wedding in a normal place?”

“This is normal,” Blaine said.

“Of course it is. I love putting on a designer suit and lounging among the hay bales. Ferragamos were designed for dodging cow pats. Not many people know that.”

“Oh come on,” Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand and tugging at him. “Get in the spirit. What’s more romantic than a farm?”

That question made Kurt finally look up, which meant he had to stop walking. The thing they’d parked in was unquestionably a pasture and Kurt grew up in Ohio. He knew what you’d find in pastures. “Are you seriously asking me that? There’s nothing romantic about a farm.”

“You’re kidding me. Anne of Green Gables? Rebecca of Sunnybrook?”

“Let me rephrase that. There’s nothing about a farm that anyone who isn’t a ten-year-old girl would find romantic.”

“Well I think it’s lovely,” Blaine said. He pulled on Kurt’s arm, dragging him forward, and Kurt spied a cobbled path ahead so he allowed himself to be led.

“I rest my case.”

They began to merge with other guests as they approached the . . . barn. There was no way around it. This wedding was happening in a barn. At least, Kurt notice smugly, all the guests who weren’t on the path were stepping across the ground as gingerly as he had been himself. Kurt looked around for any of their other friends but he and Blaine seemed to have been the first to arrive.

Blaine gave an exaggerated gasp as they crossed the threshold into the huge, open space.

“Give it a rest, please,” Kurt said under his breath.

“Bruce did such an amazing job. Look at the decorations!”

Kurt was about to point out that there was straw on the floor when a beautiful young man in a perfectly tailored tuxedo and a brown submissive’s cuff approached them, smiling broadly. “Lars or Bruce?” he asked.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. “Both?” Kurt said without thinking.

“Which side has fewer people?” Blaine asked.

“Lars,” the boy said. “Bruce has a lot of friends.”

“We’ll go Lars,” Blaine said.

“I didn’t expect Bruce to be the one with more friends,” Kurt murmured to Blaine as they followed the boy down the straw-strewn aisle to their seats. “I mean, he’s a sweet pup. But Lars is so . . . Lars.”

“Now that I can agree with you on.”

The boy gestured them into a row of seats. “Anywhere here is fine,” he said and disappeared back up the aisle.

“At least they’re real chairs,” Kurt allowed. “I was afraid we’d be sitting on barrels.”

“Come on, Kurt. I know this isn’t what you’d choose if we . . . I mean when we . . . well, you know.” Blaine stumbled over his words, blushing at the suggestion that someday this could – or would – be them. “But you have to admit a lot of people like this kind of thing.”

“Yes. People who wear cowboy boots with their tuxes.”

“Or maybe pups who like the outdoors and animals and . . . farms.”

Kurt sighed. “I guess I can give you that.” He eyed the seats across the aisle, which were already almost filled with guests on the chairs and more than a few pups kneeling between them. “I just never knew Bruce was so popular. I mean, he’s awesome when you get to know him but mostly all he does is lay on the floor and bark.”

Blaine gave Kurt a wink. “Well they do say dogs are man’s best friend.”


	7. Grey

When the shriek from the bathroom filled their apartment Blaine momentarily froze, lost in the memory of years ago, their first apartment, Kurt’s shriek that had started them arguing and . . .

“Blaine!”

Kurt’s second cry pulled Blaine out of the past and he sprinted up the (much longer, in this apartment) hallway to the bathroom, fearing the size of the insect that could have pulled those screams from his husband.

Kurt was not cowering on the bathtub. This time he was sitting on the toilet, his head in his hands.

“Kurt? Sweetie what is it?” Blaine knelt on the little rug between Kurt’s feet and took his hands, forcing Kurt to look down at him. He didn’t look afraid. He looked like he was in shock. “What’s going on?”

Kurt took a deep breath. “I’m old,” he stated, like he was confessing some great secret.

Blaine sighed and definitely did not smile. “Honey. You’re fifty-one. And we already did the whole crisis when you turned fifty. I think it’s too soon to go through that again.”

Kurt shook his head. “No Blaine. This is different. This time it’s really true. I’m officially old.”

“Because?”

Kurt pointed at his ear.

“Because of your ear?”

“No, Blaine, look.” He tilted his head and pointed again, at his sideburn, Blaine realized.

“What am I looking at?”

“Are you blind?!” Kurt jumped up from the toilet, forcing Blaine to hastily push himself out of the way. He watched from the floor as Kurt went to the sink and inspected himself in the brightly lit mirror. “There!” Kurt said, turning back to Blaine and pointing again. “Grey! My hair is grey!”

“Your hair is as brown as it ever was.”

“Not _here_ ,” Kurt insisted, jabbing himself so forcefully Blaine winced. “Come look and you’ll see.”

Blaine climbed to his feet and obeyed. And sure enough, in the brighter light, he could see it. At least three of the individual hairs in Kurt’s right sideburn faded from brown to white in the last half millimeter of their length.

Blaine sighed. “Kurt –”

“Don’t!” Kurt held up a warding palm in Blaine’s face. “Do not. I refuse to be humored. That is grey hair and I’m an old man. I need to accept it.

“Well, you could always color it,” Blaine suggested.

“Don’t even say that. Don’t tempt me. I know how that ends. ‘It’s just a little Just for Men,’ you say and before you know it you’re on a slippery slope to Real Housewives levels of plastic surgery disaster.”

“You love those plastic surgery disasters.”

“On other people Blaine. To laugh at. No, this is it. I have to just . . . completely change my self-image. I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it so soon.” He turned back to the mirror and leaned in close, inspecting himself, Blaine suspected, for other signs of aging.

Blaine took him by the hand and tugged, leading him out into the hallway. “Let’s just go sit down,” he said as he pulled Kurt along to the living room. “It’s too bright in there anyway.”

“I can handle this,” Kurt said as they walked. “If I could handle puberty, I can handle this. Of course, puberty was me going from a pudgy kid to the gorgeous, fashionable adult I’ve been for the past forty-five years, and this is me going from that gorgeous, fashionable adult to –”

“To a gorgeous, fashionable, slightly older adult,” Blaine said as he directed Kurt to the sofa and nudged him to sit.

“With grey hair,” Kurt said forlornly.

Blaine sat too, and wrapped his arms around Kurt, pulling Kurt’s head onto his shoulder. “With a tiny bit of grey hair,” he said.

“A tiny bit is how it starts. Three hairs today, five tomorrow. Before long I’ll be as grey as –”

“George Clooney,” Blaine said cheerfully. “Remember how hot he was with grey hair? Or Patrick Dempsey?”

Kurt sniffed a little against Blaine’s neck.

“Ohh, or Anderson Cooper!”

At that Kurt lifted his head and looked at Blaine, considering. “I guess I would rock an Anderson Cooper look.”

“Rock it? Honey you’d destroy it. You’ve never met a look you couldn’t make your own,” Blaine said with every ounce of certainty he could muster.

Kurt sniffed again. “You do make a valid point.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I’ll be okay, eventually.”

“I know you will, honey.”

“I’m just going to need some time though,” Kurt said. He stretched out and pillowed his head on Blaine’s lap.

“If it helps,” Blaine said as he caressed Kurt’s still almost completely brown hair, “you’ll always be younger than me.”

“It does help,” Kurt said solemnly.

Blaine smiled. “I thought it would.”


	8. History

“But what have I done?” Blaine’s voice was a bit muffled by virtue of his face being planted in the seat of the couch. He was face down over Kurt’s lap, his lovely ass exposed and positioned for spanking.

“You lied to me, Blaine,” Kurt said seriously.

“What? When?”

“And not just me, but an entire eleventh grade history class.”

“What do you –?”

Kurt smacked Blaine’s ass hard, cutting off the question. He couldn’t help it. He defied anyone to resist that ass.

“Queen Victoria, Blaine.”

“What are you –?”

Kurt spanked again.

“Back in high school. When we met.”

Blaine had apparently learned his lesson. He didn’t speak again. Kurt spanked him anyhow. His ass was already starting to pink up. It had been far too long, Kurt thought, since they’d done this.

“You told us all that Queen Victoria kept her mark secret.”

_SmackI_

“Because she and Albert didn’t want anyone to know they were soulmates and stop them from getting married.”

_Smack!_

Kurt rubbed his palm over Blaine’s reddening skin. “What do you have to say for yourself, Blaine?”

Blaine moaned and rocked his ass under Kurt’s hand. “Wasn’t that what happened?”

“Oh Blaine.”

_Smack!_

“As it happens, the Duchess of Kent . . .” _smack!_ “. . . that’s Victoria’s mother you may remember . . .” _smack!_ “. . . made Victoria show her her mark as soon as it appeared.” _Smack!_ “Which of course no one knew . . .” _smack!_ “. . . except the two of them . . .” _smack!_ “. . . and John Conroy of course.” _Smack!_ “But the whole affair . . .” _smack!_ “. . . was far more complicated . . .” _smack!_ “. . . than you made it seem in class that day.”

By this point Blaine was hard, moaning, and thrusting against Kurt’s thighs under the force of each slap. Kurt rained down a few more for good measure, then maneuvered Blaine away, easing him down onto his knees on the floor.

“What do you have to say for yourself Blaine?”

Blaine whined and pushed his sore ass up off his calves, making his cock dance. “How do you even know any of this?” he asked.

“I just saw it on _Victoria._ It’s common knowledge. She wrote all about it in her diary.”

“Well in my defense, I was only a substitute teacher.”

Kurt shook his head sadly. “And you think that’s an excuse?”

“And my newly discovered soulmate was giving the most provocative blow job to a pencil right in front of me.”

“There was that,” Kurt allowed.

“Also who really ever wants to think about the Duchess of Kent and Conroy?”

Kurt frowned at Blaine. “Really? Should you be so disrespectful of people who earned you such a nice spanking?”

“Yeah I’m not going to change my mind on that one,” Blaine said.

“Insolence!” Kurt teased with mock indignance.

Blaine smiled up at him from under his long eyelashes. “Gee. I guess you’ll have to punish me for that too.”


	9. Inconclusive

“Ten!” Blaine groaned out as the quirt smacked his right butt cheek for the tenth time. He collapsed, panting, on his belly on the bed, clutching at the ropes that bound his hands to the headboard. His ass burned hot and throbbed in time with his heartbeat.

“Okay,” Kurt said, calmly. He didn’t even sound winded. “Crop on the left, quirt on the right. How did they feel? Which one do you think is better?”

“Huuhhh?” Blaine gurgled eloquently.

“Blaine!” Kurt bounced up the bed and into Blaine’s field of view. He had both whips in one hand, a clipboard in the other. “I asked you to pay attention! This isn’t fun and games you know. This is _homework_! Did you forget?”

Blaine craned his neck to try to look at Kurt. “I remember,” he panted. “Dom class. Implements for . . . impact. I remember."

“Okay, so what’s the difference between them? I need the sub’s perspective on this or my report won’t be complete.”

“Report? For dom class?”

“You know I’ve always been an overachiever. You love that about me,” Kurt said, frowning down at the checklist on his clipboard. “I need you to rate them for me. Six criteria. We discussed this, Blaine.”

Yes. They had discussed it. They’d discussed it before Blaine was stripped naked, tied to the bed, and spanked by his still sometimes reticent soulmate. With whips. And, oh yeah, before Kurt had objectified Blaine into nothing but the independent variable in a kinky science experiment. Blaine’s cock was diamond-hard and his brain was flooded with submissive hormones. And Kurt wanted him to think.

“Wha . . . what were the criteria again?” he managed to stammer.

“Force, coverage, contact sensation, effect on arousal, marking – that one’s for me obviously – and overall intensity of experience,” Kurt said, but he spoke so _fast_.

“Force and . . . what?”

Kurt sighed dramatically. “Well this is a dismal failure. I was depending on your experience Blaine. I need to evaluate these toys. It’s very important to my future as a dominant.”

The very _last_ thing Blaine wanted was to be an impediment to Kurt’s future as a dominant. “Um . . . what about the . . . was it marking? The you thing? What do you think?”

Kurt scooted back to the end of the bed for the best view of Blaine’s ass. “Well, they’re kind of the same. I mean, the quirt side looks a little redder I guess. How does it feel?”

“Which was the quirt side again?”

“Blaine!”

“Well, I’m sorry! I’m a submissive getting spanked by his dominant. It’s not a good headspace for scientific evaluation. It’s like the opposite of that.”

“Well there’s only one thing to do,” Kurt said.

“Hmm?” Blaine asked

“We have to start over. I need data. So pay attention Blaine. We’ll do this all night if we have to.”

Blaine wanted to point out that more spanking was hardly likely to get any more coherent data out of him. But if he did, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be spending all night getting spanked. He stretched his legs wide and tightened his grip on the rope around his hands.

“I’ll do my best, Sir.”


	10. Join

Kurt shouldn’t have answered the phone. He knew he shouldn’t. Yes, Rachel had texted him a 911 before she called. But four out of five Rachel 911s were completely frivolous. Yet he could never be sure enough to let it go.

“What is it this time?” he asked without preamble.

“Oh thank god. I was afraid you’d be busy with Blaine or something.”

Kurt wasn’t busy with Blaine. Not exactly. Granted, Blaine was naked. And kneeling at Kurt’s feet, deeply engaged in polishing Kurt’s black Doc Martens. While Kurt wore them. With his tongue. He’d been begging for months to be allowed to do it, and Kurt had finally relented. He’d only answered the phone because he’d been sure Blaine was much too far gone in his submissive headspace to notice. And if he did notice, the objectification would just make his poor trapped cock ache all the harder.

“What’s the emergency?” Kurt barked into the phone. Blaine raised his head at the tone, fixing Kurt with an unfocused, vaguely concerned gaze. Kurt gave his curls a reassuring pat and gently nudged him back to work.

“I need you back at NYADA before five o’clock,” Rachel’s was saying.

“Why? My classes are over for the day.”

“Because the Submissives’ Support Club meets at five.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“I’m going to join it. But I need you to come with me. I’m afraid I’ll be the only dominant there.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, even though Rachel couldn’t see him. After this many years of friendship, it was a reflex. “You _will_ be the only dominant there. It’s the _Submissives’_ Support Club.”

“But who supports submissives if not dominants?”

“Even you can’t be that self-involved, Rachel. Clearly it’s for submissives to support each other.”

“All clubs at NYADA must be open to all students,” Rachel recited. “It’s in the student handbook.”

“But why would you want to?” Kurt asked. He pulled himself more upright on the sofa which resulted in his boot moving out from under Blaine’s face. Blaine whined a complaint and shuffled forward to reach it again.

“What was that?” Rachel asked sharply. Damn that woman had ears like a bat. “Was that Blaine? Oh my god, Kurt, are you having _sex_ right now?!”

“No I am not having – would I have answered the phone if I was having sex?”

“How do I know what kinky games you two are into?”

At Kurt’s feet, Blaine made to move from the left boot to the right. Kurt snapped his fingers and directed his attention to a missed spot on the left. Blaine returned to it, humping the floor gently as he worked.

“There are no kinky games. I’m sitting on my sofa fully dressed I’ll have you know. I even have my shoes on.”

Blaine made a noise. Kurt slid his right foot between Blaine’s knees, threatening his balls.

“Well since you’re not doing anything you can come with me then.”

“Again, why?” Kurt asked.

Rachel sighed. “It’s like you have no memory of McKinley.”

“I try.”

“I always join every club. I believe that there’s a place for me in any group.”

Kurt wanted to point out that maybe the way to support submissives was to let them have their group without dominant interference. But Blaine was now licking one of his boots and humping the other and he just didn’t have space in his world for anything Rachel Berry at the moment.

“I’m not coming with you,” he said tersely into the phone. “I’m not joining the Submissives’ Support Club. If you go, you go alone.”

“Kurt just –”

“Goodbye Rachel.”

Kurt hung up. He set the phone down and leaned back to admire the view of Blaine’s perfect ass rocking up and down as he worked. And if he felt a tinge of guilt for leaving the submissives of NYADA to Rachel’s domination, well, he had his own submissive to support at the moment.

And his club had orgasms.


	11. Knit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here! This year what with the homeschooling and all, I'm giving myself a break and not beating myself up if I get to the end of a day and haven't written yet. I want to keep feeling happy with this and just keep plugging along. We're on winter break now so hopefully I'll be more consistent! <3

“So I see Blaine’s still –” Sean, who’d followed Kurt into the kitchen, said under his breath.

Kurt held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t remind me,” he said, dropping empty beer bottles into the recycle bin.

“Why not? It’s as good a hobby as anything.”

Kurt peered around the wall into the living room, and seeing Blaine in deep conversation with Nathan, turned back to Sean. “It’s too much,” he said with quiet vehemence. “I’ve got six tea cozies. We only have one teapot! I have coasters. I have dish cloths. I have one of those crazy dolls you put over the extra toilet paper for god’s sake! Do I look like a toilet paper doll person? Does this look like a toilet paper doll apartment?”

“Well, Lars said Bruce really likes the paw warmers Blaine made him.”

“And do you know what he made me?" Kurt lowered his voice to a hiss. "A cock warmer, Sean. For when he’s not available. Try to picture . . . no, on second thought, don’t. I don’t want anyone picturing that.”

Sean bit into his lip but managed not to make any faces that might have further irritated Kurt. “How did he even get started?”

“One of those T.V. shows. Build a house, cook a croquembouche, knit an afghan. My sister-in-law was still pregnant and he got inspired.” Kurt shrugged. “It was sweet, actually, at first. I mean, a baby blanket for our niece. And it turned out really beautiful and everyone was impressed and he was so proud of himself. But then he just didn’t _stop_.”

Sean made a face.

“What?” Kurt asked.

“Nothing.”

“Sean. _What_?”

It was Sean’s turn to shrug. “I just thought – but I’m sure I’m wrong – well, he made it for your niece. And you guys don’t have any kids . . .”

“You think he’s . . . broody?” Kurt shook his head, pushing away the idea. “That’s ridiculous. We made a choice. We talked about it for a long time and we both agreed. Both of us,” Kurt insisted. “Kids don’t work with the lifestyle we want, my career, our dynamic. Even just living here in Manhattan – we agreed,” he repeated.

“I hear you,” Sean said. “But . . .” He tilted his head to peer past Kurt into the living room where Blaine sat in deep conversation with Nathan, his fingers flying between two needles and a skein of yarn.

“No,” Kurt said with total commitment. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not _that._ ”

* * * 

“Do you regret our decision not to have kids?” Kurt didn’t plan to say it. He certainly didn’t plan to say it when they were basking in the afterglow of amazing sex, panting in a cuddled heap on their bed.

“What?” Blaine asked. “Where did that come from?”

Kurt, currently playing little spoon, had to twist around to look at Blaine. “Sean thought –”

“Sean? What were you talking to Sean about?”

“Your knitting.”

Blaine’s brows drew together. “How did you get from knitting to kids?”

Kurt took a deep breath. “Honey, you’ve been knitting a _lot_.”

“Well yeah. It’s really fun. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to acquire a completely new skill. And I’m good at it. It makes people happy. Bruce loves the paw warmers I made him.”

“Okay, but, this all started when you made Willa that blanket. And Sean thought maybe you were having . . . feelings . . . about babies . . . and blankets . . .”

To Kurt’s relief, Blaine put a hand over his lips, stopping his word diarrhea. “We talked about this. Kids don’t fit for us. Unless you’ve changed your mind about that.”

“No, god, no,” Kurt said. “Unless you have . . .”

Blaine shook his head. “No. I totally haven’t. I’m just knitting so much because it’s really making me happy. Okay?”

Kurt nodded, and snuggled down into Blaine’s chest, lax with relief.

“Hey, wait,” Blaine said, lifting his head to peer down at Kurt. “Why were you . . . were you _complaining_ to Sean about my knitting?”

Kurt buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder. “No, sweetie. Why would you think that? I love all your knitted things.”

He held his breath until Blaine relaxed back onto the pillow and his arms tightened in a hug. “That’s a relief. Because I’m starting a new project for you tomorrow. I’m making socks to match your cock warmer!”


	12. Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here! Still plugging away at both my Advents! More to come (I hope . . .) ;)

“Oh god, I’m close, stop!”

Kurt let go of Blaine’s cock with an exasperated sigh. “Blaine –”

“I know,” Blaine gasped.

“How am I supposed to learn if you keep telling me when you’re close?”

“Yeah but . . .”

“But what?” Kurt asked.

Blaine didn’t answer. He twisted his fingers through two of the attachment points on the headboard and took a deep breath. “Nothing. I’m okay. Try again. I’ll try not to say anything.” He closed his eyes and scrunched his face up like a man facing a firing squad. It was comical, really. Blaine naked, cock turgid, face of a doomed soul.

Instead of laughing, Kurt sighed again. “Look at me Blaine.”

Blaine opened his eyes.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Kurt said.

“I said I’m –”

“Blaine.”

It was Blaine’s turn to sigh. He let go of the eye bolts and rolled onto his side to better face Kurt. “I know you want to work on . . . figuring me out. But the last time I came without permission that punishment was – well, I did get something out of it in the end, but that doesn’t mean I want to repeat the experience. It was horrible.”

“Blaine. Honey,” Kurt said, taking Blaine’s hand in his, “I told you before. That punishment wasn’t really for coming, it was for taking your pleasure and your experience out of my hands. This is completely different. I’m specifically asking you to put your experience _in_ my hands. And when you warn me, you’re kind of doing the same thing you did before. I want you to give up control to me. It’s the only way I can improve my Blaine skills.”

Blaine smiled at that, ducking his head and looking up at Kurt through his eyelashes. “Your Blaine skills are pretty good already, you know.”

“There’s always room for improvement. Mira says a good dominant can read every nuance of his submissive’s body. Don’t you want me to be able to make you feel like I’m ripping the soul out of your body with nothing but a fingertip?”

“So . . . much,” Blaine breathed, his eyes going glazed in the way they did whenever Kurt turned on the dominant charm.

“Well how can I do that if you don’t learn to trust me?”

Blaine gaped at him. “I do trust you! You know I do. I trust you with my life.”

“Then let me do this. Let me figure out when to stop.”

Blaine held Kurt’s gaze for a long moment and Kurt made sure he radiated dominant confidence back. Slowly Blaine rolled back onto his back and reached again for the eye bolts.

Kurt reached for the turgid cock. But before he could get there Blaine let go and rolled onto his side again. “So I’m just allowed to come?” he asked with such a look of indignation that Kurt had to stifle laughter again. This time he hid it with severity.

“Of course not! This exercise doesn’t mean all my standards go out the window.”

“Then what happens if you don’t stop in time and I do come?”

Kurt shook his head. “Oh ye of little faith.” In a swift move he tightened the fingers of one hand around Blaine’s balls and with the other gripped his chin, holding his gaze. “Now listen to me Blaine Anderson. You are going to submit your body to my practice. You are going lie perfectly still while I do whatever I need to for as long as I need to. You are not going to make a sound. You are going to do everything in your power – short of warning me – not to come. If you do come you’ll be punished. Not like before, I already told you that. But we do have rules and you not coming without permission is one of the most important. Yes, I realize it’s not fair to punish you if I’m the one who misjudges the timing. But I make the rules so too bad. You will accept whatever punishment you’re given and when it’s over you’ll kiss my feet and thank me for it. Do you understand?”

Blaine’s eyes went wide. His cock flexed away from his belly and disgorged a healthy slug of glistening precome.

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s balls. “I said, do you understand.”

“Yes, Master,” Blaine whispered.

“Good. Assume the position.”

“Can I ask one question?” Blaine said timidly.

Kurt inclined his head imperiously.

“Will you really let me kiss your feet?”

Kurt smiled. “Oh, honey. That’s not going to happen because I’m not going to mess up.”

“But would you? If you did? And I did?”

“If I did, and you did,” Kurt said, sliding his hand up from Blaine’s balls to stroke his iron cock, “then I would.”

Blaine whined, and closed his eyes. Kurt used the precome to lube his thumb as it teased Blaine’s frenulum, which made Blaine whine even louder.

“But I won’t.”


	13. Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shocking everyone, she posted! ;)
> 
> Yes this is still happening. Slowly, but you guys know me. Slow goes with the territory.

“. . . and then he tried to tell me it was because sheep are carnivorous! And of course I believed him. I was four! My nightmares after that were . . .”

Blaine turned from the fridge mid-sentence and realized that the man he thought he was talking to was nowhere in sight.

“Kurt?” he called out.

“Bathroom!” came the answer.

Blaine sighed as he made his way to the bathroom, where Kurt was fiddling with his hair for the sixteenth time.

“What are you doing?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

“I just want everything to be perfect,” Kurt replied without looking away from his reflection.

“You look fine, Kurt.”

That made Kurt turn. “Fine?!”

“Great! Perfect. You look like you always look which is . . . perfect.”

“You don’t understand,” Kurt said turning back to the mirror.

“It’s just my brother.”

“Yes! Your brother the gorgeous famous actor. Who is famous. And gorgeous.”

 _And who gave me nightmares about boy-eating sheep,_ Blaine thought but did not say. “He’s not that special, take my word for it,” he said instead. “I mean, do you even watch the show?”

“I binged last season on Monday night to prepare,” Kurt said as he executed a virtuoso maneuver with comb and hairspray.

“Why?” Blaine asked before he could stop himself.

“Because I grew up in Lima! This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Blaine’s face must have fallen as far as his heart did because Kurt actually dropped both comb and hairspray and spun around.

“Oh shit! I didn’t mean that. Not like it sounded.”

“You said –”

Kurt slapped a hand over Blaine’s mouth, pushing him gently into the wall behind and forcing him to stop talking.

“Blaine Anderson. You _know_ what finding you has meant to me. And we both know it’s about a thousand times more intense than anything that’s going to happen in this apartment in the next half hour. You _know_ it. So let me have my silly teenager excitement about meeting a TV star who is also practically my brother-in-law. It’s just fun. It’s not _real_ , like we’re real.”

Of all of that, what landed, hard, in Blaine’s brain was _silly teenager_. Exactly the thing he’d said over and over he’d wanted for Kurt. He’d been willing to sacrifice almost anything to let Kurt have those moments. But here he was, letting his and Coop’s personal bullshit drag down what was, when he really thought about it, just a fun moment for Kurt. He could give Kurt this. There was plenty of time for Kurt to realize that Cooper was just like anyone else, and often more trouble than he was worth.

He nodded, and, when Kurt removed his hand, said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Now smile,” Kurt commanded.

Blaine did.

“And tell me I look amazing.”

“You know you always look amazing.”

The doorbell rang. Kurt’s eyes went wide. “Oh shit! Maybe I should brush my teeth again!”

Blaine took his hand and pulled him away from the mirror. “You’re fi . . . perfect. Let’s just get this over with.”

Before they could get to the door the bell rang a second time and Cooper was knocking “shave and a haircut” because of course. Kurt hung back at the last minute so Blaine opened the door to the full force of nature that was his brother.

“Squirt!” Cooper pushed through the door and swept Blaine into a bear hug, then let him go with barely a glance and moved on to Kurt. Blaine shared a wry smile and a hug with Lauren, who trailed in in Coop’s wake.

“And this must be Kurt!” Cooper said with extra enthusiasm. He pulled Kurt into a hug, but Blaine barely had time to grumble over the awed worship in his boyfriend’s eyes before Coop released Kurt so quickly he stumbled, and pulled back with an overdramatic gasp.

“Oh my god! I just heard it!”

“What?” Kurt squeaked.

Coop flashed his megawatt grin at Blaine and then back at Kurt. “Squirt! Kurt!”

“Oh god no,” Blaine murmured.

“It rhymes! Oh that’s perfect! Squirt and Kurt!”

“We’re not doing that,” Blaine said.

“We are so doing that! It’s too bad we can’t portmanteau it but that would just be . . . Squrt, and that’s just Squirt spelled wrong so . . . Squirt and Kurt it is!”

“Help me out here?” Blaine pleaded to Kurt.

“If I can make a suggestion,” Kurt said to Cooper, giving Blaine a moment of hope. “Since I am the dominant, don’t you think the Kurt should come first?

Cooper took Kurt’s hands in his, and Kurt’s eyes did that worship thing again, and Blaine gritted his teeth because all of this was the normal teenager behavior that he so wanted for his soulmate. _Be careful what you wish for,_ said a tiny voice in his head.

“Ooh,” Coop said with his own kind of worshipful awe. “Brilliant!” He flashed his grin at Blaine. “I like him! You did good, Squirt! Now come on, Kurt. I want to know everything there is to know about the teenage phenom who dominates the fuck out of my little brother.”

Cooper slung an arm around a dazed-looking Kurt and steered him toward the sofa. Blaine was about to follow when Lauren wrapped her arms around him from behind, holding him back.

“Let it go,” she whispered in his ear. “We both know Kurt’s too smart to buy Coop’s razzle-dazzle for long.”

“It’s already too long,” Blaine muttered back.

“Well then you can make him make it up to you once he does have Coop’s number. This is one of those rare cases where you get to do the right thing _and_ bank relationship capital.”

Blaine looked at his soulmate and his brother, heads together on the sofa. “He’s going to owe me big time.”

Lauren snorted right in Blaine’s ear. “The beauty of it is, once he does figure it out, he’ll very much know that.”

Blaine knew she was right. But that wasn’t going to stop him from making a list.

Kurt laughed at something Cooper said – a high, breathy sound that that was half nervous, half adoring.

A very long list.


	14. Nip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, we're still rolling along! Thank you to everyone who's been asking for more. You keep me moving forward. :)

Blaine closed the apartment door behind him and leaned against it, grinning at Kurt, who was lounging on the sofa with the latest Vogue.

“Done! Finally fucking done. The last final has been graded and now I have nothing to do for three glorious weeks. Except Christmas, obviously, but really you do . . . most of . . .”

Blaine trailed off as Kurt dropped his magazine on the floor and sat up, fixing him with the familiar stare that never failed to make Blaine’s throat close tight and his stomach flip-flop. As always with the last weeks of a term, there had been no time for, well, anything with Kurt, and he missed all of it of course, but he figured he could be forgiven for thinking mostly about the lack of sex, what with Kurt giving him the full-on dom face. Blaine needed no other incentive to want to fall to the floor at Kurt’s feet.

“Stop,” Kurt commanded, before Blaine could take more than a step toward him.

He stopped.

“Take your coat off.”

It fell from Blaine’s body without any conscious effort from him, dropping to the floor at his feet.

“Back up against the door.”

He did.

Kurt raised one eyebrow at him. “So no more classes?”

Blaine shook his head.

“No meetings? No student conferences?”

More shakes.

“No reason to leave this apartment?”

“Well . . . I thought a dinner out might be nice. We haven’t been on a date in a -”

“Put your hands above your head.”

How was it possible for his dick to get hard so fast?

Kurt watched Blaine raise his arms in surrender, then got up off the couch and honest-to-god _stalked_ across the room. Blaine didn’t even try to catch the whimper that escaped his throat. It had been way too long.

Kurt came just close enough to reach out and pluck at the end of Blaine’s bow tie, pulling it loose then dragging it through his collar and off. Blaine’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure Kurt could hear it, but Kurt only undid Blaine’s top shirt button then tucked his collar to the inside of his shirt, exposing more of his neck, like he planned to give Blaine a shave.

There was no shave, though. Instead, Kurt cupped Blaine’s jaw, then he lifted it, stretching out Blaine’s neck and turning his head this way and that, his eyes roving over Blaine’s exposed throat. Blaine swallowed hard, and Kurt watched, avidly, the bounce of his Adam’s apple. The he closed the distance between them and bent his head to graze his lips over the hard jut of it, drawing another whine with bonus full-body shudder from a pinned and suddenly desperately aroused Blaine.

“Oh god, please,” Blaine breathed.

“Please what?” Kurt’s lips tickled the stretched column of Blaine’s throat as he spoke.

“Anything. Anything you want.”

Kurt pulled back for just a moment, his eyes sparkling. “Well, duh,” he said then dove . . . it could only be called a dive . . . at Blaine’s neck again.

At first Blaine thought he was just nuzzling. His lips moved up and down, back and forth, occasionally he pulled a bit of skin between his teeth and nipped gently but he always moved on, like he was searching for something.

Whatever it was, he must have found it because he suddenly froze, his lips pressing just under the hinge of Blaine’s left jaw. He made a noise, the kind of unguarded, _needy_ , noise that Blaine treasured because they were so rare, then bit down, and _sucked_. Hard.

“Oh god, fuck, Kurt . . .”

It was pain and hunger and supplication and Kurt ignored it all as he ruthlessly bit his mark into Blaine’s neck, his breath hot on Blaine’s ear. Blaine squirmed and whimpered as his cock fought to break out of his jeans, but Kurt ignored it all. He sucked until . . . well, until he was done, then he lifted his head, eyes stormy dark and so full of dominance, breath rasping every bit as harshly as Blaine’s.

“Oh Kurt –”

Kurt’s hand over Blaine’s mouth cut him off. His other hand reached up, gathering Blaine’s wrists and holding him captive against the door. Then the hand on Blaine’s mouth pulled his head to the other side and Kurt’s eyes fixed on his neck again.

There was no nuzzling search on the right side. Kurt’s mouth descended, biting again, sucking, worrying the skin between his teeth with his tongue as he abused it. His hand on Blaine’s wrists tightened, vise-like, and that was just . . .

“I’m too close, I’m going to come . . .” Blaine panted, except it came out jibberish because Kurt’s hand was over his mouth.

Kurt didn’t stop. But he pressed forward, one hard thigh leaning against Blaine’s dick, and Blaine hoped to god that was permission because when Kurt’s leg rocked into him there was no power on earth that could have stopped the orgasm coming at him like a runaway freight train. Kurt bit harder and Blaine came with a (muffled) shout, pain and pleasure building in alternate layers in his dazed brain until he couldn’t tell one from the other.

He pretty much lost all feeling in his legs but Kurt was there, of course, holding him hard against the door as he rode the aftershocks then spotting his boneless slide down to the floor.

Eventually, when the capacity for thought returned, Blaine found himself cradled in Kurt’s arms, one of Kurt’s hands holding one of his, the other stroking gently along the beautifully aching column of his throat.

“Mmmm,” Blaine hummed. “That was . . . thank you.”

Behind him, Kurt giggled. “Well you’ve had a long semester. You needed a release.”

Blaine nestled his head in the space where Kurt’s long neck met his shoulder. “And I’m just guessing here but . . . you needed to mark me as your personal property and fuck toy?”

“Get used to it honey. I have you all to myself for three whole weeks," Kurt said with such heat in his voice that Blaine's spent dick made a valiant but not at all comfortable attempt to rally. "Those marks are only the beginning of the . . . marking.” 

Blaine ignored the painful spasm in his pants and instead turned his head and pressed a kiss into Kurt’s skin.

“Good.”


End file.
